


Fancy Patter on the Telephone

by cuppo-jo (midnightxcrisis)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is a Little Shit (Good Omens), Based on a Tumblr Post, Crowley is Bad at Lying (Good Omens), Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Wacky Hijinks after which Hilarity Ensues, i never finished this but i like what i have so enjoy :)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26903878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightxcrisis/pseuds/cuppo-jo
Summary: “Sorry, what was that last part?” It was Aziraphale again. He sounded a bit worked up.“I said. . .” Crowley drawled, trying to remember their conversation. The last thing he recalled was him teasing Aziraphale—something about the angel's ironic fondness for deviled eggs—and Aziraphale had responded in his usual indignant manner."Oh hush!" Aziraphale pouted. "There is absolutely nothing sinful about those eggs, and frankly, even if they were I'm retired, technically, and so are you."“Whatever you say, angel.” Crowley smiled into his phone, a soft lilt tainting his voice affectionately.An annoyed huff could be heard on the other end in response.“Right. Well, I’ll see you Thursday then?”“Thursday it is,” Crowley agreed.“Take care then. I'll be seeing you.”"Right. Love you."Crowley choked rather suddenly.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 46





	Fancy Patter on the Telephone

**Author's Note:**

> So this story has been sitting in my drafts for about a year now. It was originally inspired by this one prompt on tumblr (link in bottom notes), but unfortunately I never got around to writing anything past the first scene. HOWEVER I still really like what I wrote, and I think the idea behind this story is hilarious, so depending on if anyone would be interested I could potentially be peer-pressured into writing more, lol.
> 
> In any case though, I had a lot of fun writing this scene and I hope you find this short little one-shot as funny as I do. :)
> 
> Enjoy!

> _“But that would be lying!”_
> 
> _“Eh...Possibly, but the end result would be the same.”_
> 
> _—Crowley on lying_

* * *

It had been a month since the whole debacle with the Anti-Christ. A mere handful of weeks since they’d given Heaven & Hell the slip. A miniscule amount of time compared to the millennia that lay behind them _—_ and yet already Crowley didn’t know how he’d ever lived any other way.

Ever since throwing off the shackles of obligation to their opposing head offices Crowley and Aziraphale had for the first time truly been able to do whatever they wanted. Sure, they’d skirted responsibilities in the past for convenience's sake with the Arrangement _—_ prolonged chance meetings just for the sake of catching up _—_ but always with the threat of being found out hanging over their heads (Or lurking beneath their feet).

This new life, though, a life without always watching what you say, or checking over your shoulder, it was… nice. Better than nice even. In fact had they not known any better, or perhaps simply lacked any sense of self-preservation, a hypothetical observer of Crowley’s mood both pre and post Arma-didn’t might find the demon to be downright blissful. And that is exactly how he’d gone and mucked it all up in the end, really.

Crowley had gotten complacent, relaxed a little too much and slipped up in the most horrifying way possible. He hadn’t even known he’d done it at first either. Not until he’d hung up only for his mobile to start ringing almost immediately after.

“What.”

“Sorry, what was that last part?” It was Aziraphale again. He sounded a bit worked up.

“I said. . .” Crowley drawled, trying to remember their last conversation. The last thing he recalled was him teasing Aziraphale _—_ something about the angel's ironic fondness for deviled eggs _—_ and Aziraphale had responded in his usual indignant manner.

> _"Oh hush!" Aziraphale pouted. "There is absolutely nothing sinful about those eggs, and frankly, even if they were I'm retired, technically. and so are you."_
> 
> _“Whatever you say, angel.” Crowley smiled into his phone, a soft lilt tainting his voice affectionately._
> 
> _An annoyed huff could be heard on the other end in response._
> 
> _“Right. Well, I’ll see you Thursday then?”_
> 
> _“Thursday it is,” Crowley agreed._
> 
> _“Take care then. I'll be seeing you.”_
> 
> _"Right. Love you."_

Crowley choked rather suddenly.

See you. _See you!_ He had meant to say see you, not _—_! He didn’t mean _—w_ ell he did, but he hadn’t meant to say _—_!

_Oh you've got to be shitting me._

“It sounded like you said. . .” Aziraphale spoke carefully when no answer came.

“No! No I didn’t!” Crowley quickly lied _—_ then immediately regretted how harsh he sounded. “I mean _—_ I did, but I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Like what, exactly?” Aziraphale asked in a Very Casual tone.

“Like. . .” Crowley swallowed. He suddenly felt very warm (which was definitely unusual for a cold-blooded creature). “Like, I er. . .meant. To say it.”

“. . .Ah.” Aziraphale spoke with the wisdom of one who had no idea what the other person just said.

Crowley ran a hand over his face and growled in frustration.

“Look, angel,” Crowley let out a sigh and went for something a little more coherent. “I didn’t mean to say that, it just sort of. . .slipped out.”

“Slipped out.” Aziraphale repeated.

“Yup.” Crowley popped the 'p' as if to insist that this was a perfectly normal conversation. Or just release some anxiety. Aziraphale was impossible to read like this, and his cool, collected responses suggested this wasn't something he would just brush off.

“For something to. . .slip out, as it were,” Aziraphale started slowly, still in that cool collected tone. “Correct me if I'm wrong, but, wouldn’t that mean it was initially thought or said elsewhere for it to have a place to slip from?”

Crowley blinked.

“What?”

“What I mean, dear boy,” Aziraphale tried again, “is that your statement implies that you have said ‘I love you’ before. Or at least thought it.”

“Oh.” Crowley’s voice came out two octaves higher than he had meant it to.

Of course Crowley had said it before. Never out loud, but he had thought it many times over the last six-thousand years _—_ even more so over these last four weeks. He had wanted to tell Aziraphale how he felt for decades now, though a certain conversation back in the sixties about tartan thermals and Crowley's driving habits had well, slowed down the process so to speak. But that was half a century ago now, and with Armageddon successfully averted and their former employers no longer an issue, Crowley had started to think _—_ well, he thought maybe, with the right timing and set up. . . But this? An accidental slip of the mouth over the phone? On a _Tuesday?!?_ Crowley wanted to dig himself a hole, bury himself inside, and not come out for another five-hundred years.

Then from out of the darkness came a light. The beginnings of an idea sparked in Crowley’s mind, flimsy and incomplete, but simple enough that he grasped onto it as soon as it formed.

“Right, well,” Crowley cleared his throat, calming his nerves & sliding back into the silky smooth coolness of his usual bravado. “That’s cause I have. Said it before I mean. To my boyfriend.”

There was a beat of silence.

“You have a boyfriend.” Aziraphale asked in a tone that wasn’t quite a question. “I. . .didn’t know that,” he said finally.

“Yeah, well,” Crowley rubbed the side of his face and shrugged nonchalance despite Aziraphale not being present to see the act. “Met before Armageddon didn’t we. Was a bit busy with the Anti-Christ and all. Never found the time to tell you, angel.” He made sure to put just enough matter-of-factness in the apology for it to seem like no big deal.

“I suppose that makes sense,” came Aziraphale’s muted response on the other line. Crowley wasn't sure what he expected Aziraphale's response to be, but he listened intently to every word, waiting to hear how his best friend would react.

“So what’s their name?”

Crowley froze.

Right. Names. People tended to have those.

“His name is _—_ uh,” Crowley panicked. He looked around his flat, found nothing, then blurted out the first name that came into his wily, 6000-year-old demonic brain. “Anthony.”

There was another slight pause in the conversation.

“I thought that was your name, dear,” Aziraphale pointed out tactfully.

“Right, yeah, it is,” Crowley agreed and mentally kicked himself hard in the shins. “But his name is, er. . .pronounced differently. He’s Anthony with an ‘anTH’, and I’m Anthony with an ‘anT’. Same first name, different pronunciation. Different last names, too!” He added, overcompensating for his earlier slip. “He’s _. . ._ Anthony Mercury.”

Even the Queen poster on his wall seemed disappointed in him.

Acutely aware of how poorly this conversation was getting away from him, Crowley decided it was time to rap things up.

“Ah, actually _—_ you know what, angel? He’s calling me now, Anthony. I oughta go, might be important. All those _. . ._ coupley. . .things. . .to discuss, I'll talk to you Thursday though. _Cio!_ ”

And before Aziraphale could get a word in Crowley hung-up the phone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> This is my first time actually posting my writing in years, so kudos & comments are most appreciated :)
> 
> Here's the link to the original story idea: https://nicnacsnonsense.tumblr.com/post/187912381182/okay-so-ive-seen-this-prompt-done-a-couple-of  
> And you can find me on tumblr at @rapretzelxx


End file.
